Vibes
by Cerebral Seductress
Summary: Vash and Meryl share a moment. Or two. Or three, but who's counting? Oneshot.


Title: Vibes  
  
Description: Vash and Meryl share a moment. One-shot, spoilers through end of series.  
  
Rating: PG for some adult content.

"Hey."   
  
I turned around, the pudding containers sliding across the counter as my hand followed the movement. Vash stood in the doorway. His hair, sticking out in all directions, was mussed and damp, and the rivulets of water dripping from his chin made it clear that the rain hadn't let up, at least not during the short time it took for him to run from the transport to the front door. It never rained on this dry, desolate planet, but in the past two days we had seen a torrent of storms like nothing else. The streets were like rivers. People were talking about the possibility of a flood. But I hadn't paid any attention to their rants and prophecies. I hadn't seen Vash since he had left me with Knives, saying something about a girl in town that he had to talk to.  
  
"Hey," I said. Brilliant response. I struggled to think of something else to say, something to draw my mind away from the awkward moment we'd suffered the day before, when he had arrived home with Knives slung over his shoulder like a hunting trophy, then promptly left me alone with a psychotic and cold-blooded, albeit unconscious, killer...  
  
"Pudding? I went grocery shopping today- Milly made out a list..." My fingernails scraped against the counter before my hand finally found a container. When I held it out, there was a silence, and it seemed like an eternity passed before Vash cleared his throat.   
  
"No...thanks." He set his silver Colt on the table, and shrugging his jacket off, tossed that down next to it.   
  
"The water's going to ruin the finish," I said before I could stop myself, then cringed. Stupid. "Not that it....never mind. You're back sooner than I expected. Didn't you have a good time?" Still mentally kicking myself (and unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice as I spoke), I turned back to the counter, not quite sure how to make myself look busy.   
  
Wood scraped against tile as he pulled out a chair. "Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking what happened with that dancing girl in town?"   
  
"Of course not," I answered, much more forcefully than I'd intended. "It's none of my business what happened. I don't really care." I pulled open the tiny pantry and shoved the pudding onto a shelf- also more forcefully than I'd intended.   
  
Short pause. Then, "You're a lousy liar. Why don't you just ask me about her and get it over with?"   
  
For some reason that irked me. Was he copping a superior attitude or was I just in a bitchy mood because I was half-frozen? Either way, his remark ticked me off. Why didn't he just _tell_ me why he had gone to see her? Why all the secrecy and lies? I had thought that after he had made his peace with Knives, that would all be over.  
  
"Why don't you ask me how Knives is and get that over with?" I retorted, closing the door and facing him. "Excuse me for being a little hesitant to ask about your love life when I...when we..." There was no reason for me not to just say it, jealous and lovesick as I was. "Did you spend the night with her or what?"   
  
"No! She just had some information about an old friend, and it took me awhile to find her. That's it. No interference in the love life at all. How's Knives?" He looked significantly appalled at my question, and my anger subsided just a bit.   
  
"He seems fine. Better than you, actually. What happened?"   
  
Vash raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me what happened with Knives?"   
  
"No. Did that girl have the information you wanted?"   
  
He rubbed a hand across his eyes- either stalling for time or trying to banish his exhaustion, I don't know. I found myself trying to analyze the gesture, thinking about how many different things it could mean. I'd had two weeks to think about him, not just as the Humanoid Typhoon and the reason for my next paycheck, but as the first guy I'd ever felt a connection with. But I was still lost- I had no idea how he felt- or even how I felt, for that matter.   
  
Was it wrong to care about him that way? Of course.   
  
Did I care? Not really.   
  
At least that much was clear.   
  
I was looking so hard at him that I didn't even know he was looking right back at me, a smile curving his lips. When he finally caught my gaze, it cracked into a full grin, and I blushed, realizing that I'd been staring.   
  
"You know," he said, propping a fist on the tabletop as he stood, "I'm sort of getting this vibe from you right now."   
  
"A vibe?" I repeated. He took a step forward. Conscious effort on my part not to look jubilantly expectant.   
  
He ran a hand through his spiky hair, which remained standing on end as he advanced further. I tried not to laugh. He would probably have flipped out if he knew how ridiculous he looked right then.  
  
"Yeah, a vibe," he continued, oblivious to the disarrayed state of his hair. "It's one of those...you know, 'I'm not sure if I'm mad at you for leaving me with your brother while you went and tried to seduce a dancing girl with your lecherous moves, and did it actually work because I'm totally curious' vibes. Tell me why you're so concerned about it."   
  
"Wouldn't you like to know."   
  
He took one last step and stopped right in front of me, and all thoughts of his hair fled from my mind. I promptly fixed my gaze on the front of his shirt- the black shirt. Again. Ugh. "I can't believe you're wearing that shirt. Don't you ever wash it?"   
  
He brushed his fingers across my lips, tipped my chin up so that I had to look into his aqua eyes. They were gorgeous, as usual. Bastard. How was it possible that one man could melt my heart just by looking at me?   
  
"You're shivering," he said, trailing his hand down the rain-soaked sleeve of my shirt.   
  
"Yeah, that happens when you're cold," I replied. "Were you missing the whole 'freezing my ass off' vibe?"   
  
"Stop," he chided gently, and his breath was warm on my skin. "No sarcasm now."   
  
"No sarcasm and I might...um...succumb to your lecherous moves," I said, shocking myself with my boldness, even with the caustic lilt to my tone.  
  
"Mmm. I'm not sure that's such a good idea, then." He braced one hand against the door beside my head. I could smell his cologne. I hadn't known he wore cologne. It was intoxicating. I was tempted to melt into his arms, but his expression was serious, so I resisted the urge. Barely.   
  
The thought occurred to me that I was in way over my head with this guy. He was so close I couldn't move without touching him. I couldn't move anyway, freezing from the rain and the damn air conditioning, burning from the inside out because I wanted something from him, anything to stop the confused tangle of brainwaves in my head.  
  
"Vash," I said, my voice hoarse. I fully intended to inform him that I was tired of the games, that I needed some kind of closure, but then he really did kiss me, and all rational thought was unceremoniously squashed.   
  
Now I'd had my share of fantasies about kissing Vash- so sue me, that's what you _do_ when you're crushing on a guy!- but none of them, not a single, single one compared to the real thing. Where I had pictured emotion, there was raw, unashamed passion, and yet he was threatening to kill me with the gentleness of his hand as he cupped my face, the ease with which his mouth moved over mine. This was more than a dream. This was an acceptance of each other's presence, a surrender to the need that we'd both felt for so long.  
  
I wanted to die from ecstasy. I was ready to collapse on the floor, and probably would have if he hadn't suddenly pulled away, and I was left leaning unsteadily against the pantry, listening as the front door slammed. He was running. Again. Like he had so many times before. I had thought that the confrontation with Knives would quiet whatever private demons he still harbored, but here I stood, shaky on my feet from that earth-shattering kiss and wondering why the hell he would leave me in such a state.  
  
He left his coat on the table, just as rain-soaked and pathetic as I was.


End file.
